


5 Times Stiles is the Lube Fairy +1 Time Stiles is…Still the Lube Fairy

by herinfiniteeyes



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU ish, Bisexual Male Character, F/M, Lube, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Masturbation, Stiles is a magical creature, Voyeurism, everyone should use lube, kind of cracky, lots of lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-13
Updated: 2012-10-13
Packaged: 2017-11-16 04:50:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herinfiniteeyes/pseuds/herinfiniteeyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is the Lube Fairy. </p>
<p>(Or: in which Stiles is responsible for making sure everyone in Beacon Hills is well lubricated.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 Times Stiles is the Lube Fairy +1 Time Stiles is…Still the Lube Fairy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [allnuthatchforest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allnuthatchforest/gifts).



> This is for my Twitter feed ladies, because you all know why. <3<3<3
> 
> (Particular thanks to: lezzer_lee, ladderax_1, aliassmith_lj, the_ragnarok_d, and annejumps {even though she won't read this because it's Teen Wolf fic ;)})

1\. 

“It’s okay, we’ll just use -- ” 

They hear a faint _pop_ , and Scott spins to look over his shoulder. 

“ _Stiles?!_ ” he screeches unattractively. 

Stiles takes in the tableau: Scott’s got his pants around his knees, and he’s kneeling between two obviously masculine legs. Stiles has to crane his neck to see who it is, and is only slightly taken aback to see Isaac’s flushed face. 

“’Bout damn time, man,” he mutters to Scott, who looks immediately chagrined. 

Scott’s bashfulness melts into embarrassed outrage instead. “Dude! What are you doing here?”

Stiles releases a gusty, long-suffering sigh and pulls a bottle of something out of his back pocket. He tosses it onto the rumpled bedspread and shrugs. “I didn’t exactly want to crash your foray into gay sex, but I’m the Lube Fairy, man.” 

Scott splutters like that’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard (it’s not, Stiles would know) and Isaac shoots up to look at Stiles over the top of Scott’s head. “Seriously? What does that even mean?” He looks attractively rumpled, and his cheeks are ruddy with either arousal or embarrassment. 

Stiles would guess probably a bit of both. 

Impatient to get going, he rolls his eyes and sets into the same explanation he’d had to give Erica and Allison when he crashed _their_ private party. “I came into my powers on my sixteenth birthday. You wanna talk about awkward sex talks? Yeah, my dad had a field day. Apparently, it’s my job to make sure the people of Beacon Hills are properly lubed up before they get down to business. Capiche?” 

Scott’s face gets that stubborn, confused look that means he’s trying far too hard to figure something out. Stiles shakes his head to cut off the inevitable questions. “Have at it, boys.” 

Another _pop_ and Stiles is gone. Isaac picks up the bottle of lube and reaches for Scott’s hand. “Let us never speak of that again.” 

Scott agrees. 

2\. 

“Shit! Okay, well, we’ll just use –“

_Pop!_

“Bilinski?!”

“Coach?!”

“…”

“ _GREENBURG??_ ”

 

3.

“It’s okay, seriously. We’ll just use –“

“MY EYES!!” Stiles yells. He hopes never to see Coach Finstock in that position ever again. Seriously. His stomach feels vaguely sick. 

Jackson scrambles around next to Danny on the bed. “Stilinski? What the fuck?!”

Stiles shudders in disgust, his eyes unfocused and likely horrified. When he hears Jackson’s shout, he freezes and looks around, taking in the monotone grey room. “Wait, where am I now?”

Danny sits up, clearly amused and rolling with it. “Lube Fairy, huh?” 

Stiles gawks at him. “You know about me?” 

Danny shrugs in that worldly way that no seventeen-year-old should possess. Stiles would be attracted to him, but – no, he’s definitely attracted to Danny. 

“My first boyfriend thought he could use anything,” Danny says casually.

Jackson scowls like bitchy cat. Danny pats his knee in consolation. “He even tried peanut butter once.”

Stiles winces and reaches into his pocket for the bottle. “Jackson, I’m only going to say this once: don’t fuck up. Lube is your friend.” 

Danny reaches for the bottle and grins until his dimples clearly make Jackson forget Stiles is there. He snatches the bottle out of his boyfriend’s hand and pours an overly liberal amount on his fingers. Danny’s eyes light up and he scoots back down onto his back. Jackson leans over to lay a wet kiss full of tongue on Danny, and then his slick hand is moving between them, and Stiles is momentarily caught, watching the way they move together. They look good, and Stiles is getting one of those inconvenient erections that is the bane of his pubescent existence.

He shakes his head and groans. “This sucks.” He disappears with the echo of Danny’s laugh in his ears. 

4\. 

“We can use –“

_Pop!_

“… Stiles!” 

“…. Lydia?” 

Either Stiles’ dreams are coming true, or his dreams are coming true, because there’s just no way Lydia Martin is stretched out, pale and tiny on top of Boyd’s gorgeously dark and awesomely huge body. (Stiles kind of has a size kink, so sue him.)

Except she is, so today must be Stiles’ Very Lucky Day. Lydia sits up, the sheet held demurely against her chest. Boyd sits next to her, his hand cupped quite ineffectually over his junk. Stiles licks his lips and zones out for a minute, totally willing Boyd’s hand to slip.

Lydia’s tone is tart when she snips, “Care to explain how you just suddenly showed up in my bedroom?” 

Stiles looks back and forth between them for a minute before he looks down at Lydia’s hand. “Wait, that’s – that’s lube. Why am I here?” 

Lydia flips her hair and rolls her eyes. “Of course it is, you idiot. And your guess is as good as mine.” 

Boyd wisely doesn’t say anything. It’s pretty obvious that Lydia is impatient to get down with Boyd the Big Boy, here. She raises one perfectly arched eyebrow. “Well? You can go now.” 

Stiles scratches his head. “But I’m the Lube Fairy. I’m supposed to… give you… lube?” 

Lydia shakes the bottle in her hand at him. “Already got it covered, thanks. Now, seriously: Get lost.” 

Stiles looks over at Boyd, who shrugs and grins as he side-eyes Lydia with surprising affection. 

Never let it be said Stiles “The Lube Fairy” Stilinski doesn’t know when to make a strategic exit. “Fair enough,” he says and disappears. 

5.

“Oh! Oh, I found some suntan lotion. We could use that?” 

“Fucking _Scott_!”Stiles yells. He hits his head on the roof of the car and tries to stretch out his legs in the cramped back seat of Scott’s mom’s car. They’re parked outside the woods in one of the small turnarounds, and both Scott and Isaac have the front seats pushed back and reclined as far as they go, so Stiles’ knees are up by his ears. 

“You are such a potato!” he yells for good measure. 

“Hey! I am not!” Scott protests at Stiles’ reflection in the rearview mirror. 

Isaac grins over his shoulder at Stiles. “You kind of are, though,” he says to Scott.

Scott looks hurt for a second, but Isaac reaches out to stroke a hand over the bluge in Scott’s jeans, and Scott’s eyes go all dreamy and dark. 

“Just take the lube,” Isaac advises. 

Scott reaches a shaking hand into the back seat, and Stiles slaps the bottle into his palm. “I hate you so much.”

“Uh huh,” Scott moans. Isaac’s hand is in the front of his jeans now, and Stiles really needs to get out of here because he never wants to see Scott’s boner again. 

“You are _so_ buying your own lube from now on!” Stiles huffs before he disappears. 

 

+1.

Stiles isn’t sure why he’s here, because he hadn’t heard the magic phrase that usually summons him, but here he is in the burnt-out shell of Derek’s house anyway. 

Derek’s face is frozen in what looks more like discomfort than extreme pleasure. He’s reclining on a mattress on the floor with his jeans open and his black t-shirt hiked up to his chest. His ridiculous abs gleam in the moonlight filtering through the hole in the ceiling, and Stiles is momentarily transfixed by how beautiful Derek looks like this, until he notes Derek’s half-wolfed out hand wrapped around his dick. 

“Dude, aren’t you worried about your claws so close to your junk?” he asks. He immediately wants to smack himself, but… well, he’d actually like to know. 

Derek frowns and growls deep in his throat. “What are you doing here, Stiles?” 

“Oh, right. Yeah, um, about that.” Stiles stumbles through his explanation. “So, basically, I show up whenever someone’s about to use something really stupid for lube, or if they just need lube in general?” 

He doesn’t know why he says that last thing like it’s a question, but maybe it’s because he’s still not sure why he’s here. Derek’s alone and uncut, so lube is likely pretty unnecessary here. 

Derek glares at him. “Lube Fairy? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” 

Stiles flaps his hand to indicate Derek. “Hello? Werewolf? Talk about pot calling the kettle, dude!” 

That doesn’t seem to convince Derek, so Stiles reaches into his pocket to produce the bottle of lube that always shows up there when he’s on a call. “See?” 

Derek’s highly verbose eyebrows communicate the fact that _no, Stiles, carrying lube in your pocket isn’t actually proof of magical fairy-ness_ , so he drops the lube on the bed and holds up his hand. 

“Ready for this, then?” he warns before he rubs his fingers together. After a moment, a clear, slick liquid begins to shine on his skin. It’s slightly thinner than the lube in the bottles, but it’s also warmer, and it always does the job. 

Derek’s eyes are wide and dark as he stares at the lube Stiles’ skin is producing on its own. His hand reflexively tightens on his dick, and he lets out a little wounded yelp. 

Stiles levels a no-nonsense look at him. “What are you even doing? Do you actually get off on puncture wounds on your dick? I mean, no offense! Cuz if so, that’s totally cool, man, more power to ya. I’m all about sex positivity. I mean, heh, obviously, since I’m the Lube Fairy, right? But anyway, yeah. My point is that you look like you could use a hand. I mean! Um, shit. That’s not – that’s not what I meant, okay, so maybe I did, because, like, _look at you, seriously_ , but I mean, okay. You know what? I’m just gonna shut up now.” 

Derek’s still scowling at him, but there’s a distinctly embarrassed edge to it now. He looks conflicted, and Stiles begins to connect some dots that would explain quite a bit about the angsty man pain Derek seems to suffer from on a constant basis. 

“Okay, so, what were you using then?” Stiles asks helpfully. 

Derek looks confused. “What do you mean?” 

Stiles waves a hand in the general direction of Derek’s boner. “Did you, I dunno, use anything to smooth the way, so to speak?” 

Derek shakes his head, looking confused now. He jerks his chin at the bottle of lube. “I’ve never used that stuff.” 

Stiles throws his hands in the air with his typical melodramatic flair and looks to the Heavens (or just the night sky through the hole in the ceiling) for patience. “Has nobody ever explained the joys of a slick jack off to you?” he asks, completely exasperated now. 

The look on Derek’s face makes Stiles’ stomach sink and curdle. 

“No?” Stiles gently answers for him. 

Derek hesitates, then shakes his head slightly. He’s no longer making eye contact, and that’s so unheard of now that he’s the alpha that Stiles instantly feels a jittery sense of wrongness. He steps up to the mattress and bends down to grab the lube. 

“Hey, hey. Look at me,” he coaxes quietly. He really has no idea what he’s doing, but it feels right. 

Derek’s eyes are big and unsure when he reluctantly reestablishes eye contact. He doesn’t speak, but Stiles doesn’t expect him to. 

Wordlessly, Stiles walks around the side of the mattress and drops down next to Derek, who stiffens slightly. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna touch you,” Stiles soothes. 

Derek relaxes next to him and Stiles flips the cap open on the lube. “Here, I’ll show you,” he offers. 

Derek’s eyes burn on his skin as Stiles opens his own fly and pulls out his dick. He’s half hard already, because one does not simply walk in on Derek Hale jacking off and remain unaffected, and his hand feels like magic when he gets a firm grip on himself. 

“Uhhhhnnnn,” he moans. His eyes slipped closed momentarily, but he opens them again to see Derek staring down at his dick with a slightly hungry expression. It makes his skin feel all jittery and tight. 

“Easy, wolf-man. Now, take the lube and pour out a good amount. Maybe sheath those claws first. Good. Now lube. Rub it between your fingers until it warms up.” 

Derek follows his instructions carefully, though he looks unsure. When Derek’s not looking down at his hand, he’s looking at Stiles like Stiles is the second coming and, hah, Stiles is totally okay with that. 

Derek’s still hard, and he wants so badly to reach over and touch him, to play with his foreskin and maybe get his mouth around that leaking tip, but that’s not what this is about. 

“Is the lube warm enough now?” 

Derek considers this briefly before he nods. 

“Good. Wrap your hand around your dick and do like I’m doing, okay?” 

Derek does as he’s told, and Stiles feels a small spurt of pride in his chest when Derek lets loose a moan that sounds more like a helpless growl. 

“Good boy,” he whispers. 

Derek arches one frowny eyebrow at him, but Stiles grins at him and gets down to business. 

“Now we just settle in and enjoy the art of self-love,” he says cheekily. 

He watches Derek’s face, hands, forearms, and abs clench and release in response to the slick touch. He’s gorgeous like this: so intensely focused, lost in the feeling of his own hand. Stiles hopes someday soon he’ll get to make Derek’s face relax into such a picture of pleasure, but for now...

“God, that’s good,” he moans as he slowly works his own dick. 

Derek nods emphatically and matches his pace. That makes a bolt of heat shoot straight through Stiles’ balls, and he has to bite his lip to distract himself from coming too soon. 

He thinks skin slapping against slick skin might be the sexiest sound in the world. It’s just so dirty and _hot_ , especially when Derek is the one making that noise. 

Derek’s breath quickens, and so does his hand. His pace gains a frantic edge, and his jaw clenches tightly when he looks over at Stiles, who licks his lips and stares down at the flushed head of Derek’s dick. “Oh, fuck,” he says, high and whiny. “Derek. Derek, are you gonna come?”

“Yeah,” Derek grits out. He’s watching Stiles jack off too, his eyes clenched at the corners as if he’s in pain. 

Sweat breaks out across Stiles’ forehead and he moans, feeling his balls tighten up. “Me too. Oh god. Come on, come on, come on,” he chants as Derek’s hand flies over his own dick. 

The look on Derek’s face when he comes is a lot like enlightenment. Stiles is momentarily blinded by it. Derek’s eyes go wide and he looks at Stiles like he’s a life raft. He continues to stare at Stiles as long spurts of semen coat his chest and abs. Stiles wants to reach out, to gather up some of that come and lick it off his fingers, but then he’s coming and that’s all he can focus on at the moment. 

They both kind of collapse back onto the mattress, and Stiles stares up at the ceiling. “That’s gonna soak into our underwear,” he jokes. 

Derek raises an eyebrow at him and Stiles is just about to respond when –

“It’s okay, really! We can use –"

Stiles groans and slaps his hand over his face. “For the love of – _YOU ARE OFFICIALLY DISOWNED, SCOTT_!” he yells, and disappears.


End file.
